


Gimme Some Signs (October 2012)

by escritoireazul



Series: Tied Up in Strings [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: College, F/M, Future Fic, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-17
Updated: 2011-03-17
Packaged: 2017-10-17 01:21:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/171440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escritoireazul/pseuds/escritoireazul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lauren Zizes turns nineteen far from home and all the people she <strike>loves</strike> cares for a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gimme Some Signs (October 2012)

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: This is a transformative work of fiction for the television show Glee. It is the first in a series about the mass polyamorous relationship the senior members of glee club formed by senior year. I played pretty fast and loose with their ages, but so does the show, so I don't feel bad. Title from "If It Ain't Broke, Break It" by Meat Loaf.

_Gimme some words I can live by  
Gimme commandments to know  
Gimme some fables and proverbs  
You gotta gimme some signs where to go_  
"If It Ain't Broke, Break It" by Meat Loaf

 _October 2012_

Lauren’s away at college when she turns nineteen, far from her home and her family and her friends. Her high school glee club. That’s how she describes them when her college roommate asks about all the pictures, reverting to outdated labels because they’re easier than the long, _long_ truth.

She asks the day after they move in together. Lauren, despite how she wants to feel, finds herself missing them so damn much she finally crawls out of bed at five a.m. after trying and failing to sleep for three hours and starts slapping pictures on the wall. Mo sleeps through it.

The next day, in between orientation and the big party the football players are throwing -- Mo’s brother and her boyfriend are both on the team, and Lauren wonders if that gets weird sometimes, but it’s nice to have someone around who already knows everything that’s going on -- Mo finally notices and asks about them.

Lauren stops in the middle of putting on eyeliner -- which makes her a little sad, because it’s eyeliner Quinn gave her and Tina was the one who taught her really neat tricks with it and that makes her think about the first time Sam put on make-up for them, smudged eyeliner and blue nail polish, and _that_ reminds her of the really freaking hot hook-up that happened after the party -- and goes to stand next to Mo. Together they look at the pictures, and Lauren focuses on them instead of letting herself think about how much her heart hurts.

Photography isn’t her thing, but with a group like glee club, there is basically someone with a camera at every single event, and she doesn’t just mean their competitions. For graduation, Rachel organized photo collections for everyone, and though Lauren likes to pretend she didn’t get even the slightest bit misty-eyed over them, the truth is, all of them were struck a little speechless and this weird mix of happy-sad at what was basically a perfect gift.

The pictures were tucked into photo boxes, with a single gold star placed perfectly in the center of each lid, and organized chronologically by event, each with a little card listing the date and what was happening, and each picture has a couple labels on the back, one with the event and date and one with the names of everyone in the picture.

(”Whose bright idea was it to give Berry a label maker for Hanukkah?” Santana mutters, but her eyes are suspiciously bright. She reaches the picture of her and Brittany curled together in one seat on the bus home from Regionals that year, their heads tipped together and pinkies linked even in sleep and her breath hitches; when Rachel bounds up, she wraps her arms around her in a fierce hug and gives her a kiss.)

“That’s my high school glee club,” Lauren says and crosses her arms over her chest, her best glare at the ready. Yeah, maybe she still thinks show choir is stupid, but that doesn’t mean anyone else gets to say it is.

“Oh, cool, you sing?” Mo grins. “Do you like karaoke? That’s basically my favorite thing in the world next to running. There’s this great little place nearby, you can rent out a whole room for pretty cheap and they let you bring in alcohol and everything. We’ll have to go sometime.” She’s got this easy way about her, and though Lauren doesn’t really like new people -- or most any people -- she’s already decided that life will be better if she doesn’t actively hate her roommate. That Mo’s kind of fun so far is just a bonus.

“We should,” Lauren says. She looks at the pictures again. “My friends sang everywhere in high school, for everything. So yeah, I sing.”

(For Brittany’s eighteenth birthday, they all gave her serenades, sometimes in groups, sometimes solos. Santana? Totally a solo. Rachel too. Kurt and Blaine sang to her together, and the faces Blaine made while he danced had Lauren trying so hard to hide her laughter -- damn, okay, it’s _Brittany_ , no way was Lauren going to ruin her birthday -- that she ended up falling off the bleachers and cutting the hell out of her arm.

Then in the shower later -- because she was way too hurt to wash her own hair, Puck said and volunteered -- he tried to sing all sexy but slipped and she cracked her knee so hard lunging to catch him that for a second she thought she broke it.

Her first thought wasn’t about what it would do to her wrestling career or even how much it hurt, but how the hell she was going to explain to anyone how she’d managed to hurt herself so badly twice in the same day without letting it slip that her boyfriends were sometimes ridiculous, okay, can you blame her?)

They go back to getting ready after that, and the party’s pretty fun, but when they come stumbling home at three a.m., slightly drunk and absolutely exhausted, Lauren still lies awake awhile staring at the pictures she can see by the streetlight spilling in through the open blinds.

She and Mo are both athletes, even if neither of them play school-sponsored sports -- Lauren because there isn’t a Greco team and Mo because she’s tired of competition, she just wants to play for fun, so she joins a club team -- and they get along pretty well. They hang out together a lot in September, and though they don’t have the same schedule, they are taking the same classes. Even with different professors and TAs, they can study together.

It’s weird, almost, that Lauren can’t really remember how to study by herself, when there was a time not so long ago that’s all she did. She likes the distraction of Mo and the friends she makes. She brings people together, and Lauren doesn’t mind hanging out with them. Mo is always eager to be elsewhere when Lauren’s on the phone with one of her _friends_ , and she spends a lot of nights at her boyfriend’s place, which makes the phone sex easier.

(Tina’s the one who brings it up first, because girl’s a sexual _freak_ , not that phone sex is all that kinky. But it turns out to be major fun and pretty soon they’re getting off on conference calls and sexting so much Lauren has to suck it up and buy the unlimited text package. After that time Puck drove his truck into a ditch when she sent him a shot of her tits in this really gorgeous new corset Mercedes sent her, they finally got him trained not to look at his phone while driving. Mostly.)

Lauren’s birthday is early in October; Finn’s is toward the end.

(Senior year, they throw a joint birthday party at the Hudmel House, and Kurt’s dad and Finn’s mom let them all crash in the living room and mostly stay upstairs. They don’t get drunk, but they do play spin the bottle. That’s not where this whole thing between them begins, because pieces of it were already in place, but those sober kisses spark unexpected chemistry and it kinda snowballs from there.

By December, Lauren’s holiday shopping list is out of control. When Artie suggests a secret gift exchange, it sounds like one of the best ideas ever.)

When her nineteenth birthday rolls around, Lauren throws herself into school and into her job at the main campus library and time at Shimmer. She’s at school on scholarship, but she’s saving up money for wrestling school. Maybe. She chose Chicago because Shimmer is there, and she is getting experience with them, but pro wrestling is a lot different than high school Greco, and as confident as she is in herself, she might need more before she can make it. Shimmer’s school is at the Ring of Honor Wrestling Academy in Pennsylvania, so she’ll need money for the school and for the move and for living in a new place with all new people _again_.

Her birthday is a Thursday, and though Mo has two cupcakes sitting on her desk when she wakes up and she talks to her parents over lunch, that’s all the time she spends letting herself think about her birthday until she leaves the library at eleven -- work, not homework, though that’s piling up some -- and trudges across campus to her dorm. The wind is sharp and cold, and she is not looking forward to a long, hard winter.

Lauren grabs a soda from the vending machine -- she grabbed the last one out of the mini-fridge on her way to class and didn’t take the time to put any more in to chill -- and slumps against the elevator wall while she watches the numbers slowly climb.

Mo and her boyfriend got stuck in the elevator the second week of class. They had fun and tell a good story about it, but ever since, Lauren’s been waiting for it to shut down while she’s in it. That will be a bad, bad day. It’s been awhile since she had a really claustrophobic moment, but being trapped like that is sure to kick it off.

There’s a scrawled note from Mo on the door amid the birthday messages -- lyrics from “Hot Patootie - Bless My Soul” is their code that Mo’s spending the night at her boyfriend’s so Lauren knows whether to expect her but they don’t advertise an empty room; Mo’s Meat Loaf obsession is both hilarious and slightly weird -- but when Lauren lets herself inside, she’s not alone: Noah freaking Puckerman is asleep on her bed. She presses the door shut softly and leans against it, just watching him for a long moment. Her desk lamp is on and it casts shadows across his face; she can see the smudge of exhaustion under his eyes. From the stubble along his jaw, he hasn’t shaved since this morning. He kicked off his boots before he stretched out; they’re on the floor by her tiny closet, mud caked along the soles.

Lauren’s holding her breath, and lets it out in a soft sigh. It’s a shock, sure, but she is really glad to see him.

She drops her bag on Mo’s bed and hangs up her coat, trying to be quiet. She slips off her outer shirt, too, and tosses it into her laundry bag, then works her way out of her bra, leaving her in a thin long-sleeve shirt from Old Navy and jeans that are too loose even though they fit perfectly when Kurt picked them out over the summer. (Shopping with Kurt and Mercedes is an adventure she isn’t sure she ever wants to repeat, but she knows she will, because they love it. And because apparently she will need some new clothes, not because she’s trying to lose weight but because she’s too busy and she’s racing from one side of campus to the other all the time and she’s working out extra hard, because this pro wrestling dream is going to take a lot more from her than she expected.) It’s just luck that her shirt is purple, Puck’s favorite color.

When she turns back to the bed, he’s awake and watching her.

“Happy birthday, babe,” he murmurs, his voice rough from sleep. She does have homework -- her European history class is kicking her butt and she has a paper due soon -- and she’s exhausted, but all she wants in that moment is to crawl into his arms and forget that there’s a world outside that keeps them all so far apart.

The bed’s really too small for both of them, but Puck rolls onto his side, his back against the wall, and Lauren tugs a blanket free before settling next to him, her back to his chest and their heads close together on the pillow. She drapes the blanket over them, and he slips his arm around her, pulling her tighter to him.

“What are you doing here?” she asks in a whisper.

“Did you really think we’d let you be alone for your birthday?” He brushes her hair out of the way so he can nuzzle the back of her neck. “I have gifts for you from everyone, and we’re all sorry I’m the only one who could make it.”

“Good,” she deadpans. “Seeing you is a damn letdown, let me tell you.”

He laughs and brushes a kiss against her skin. She curls her hand around his where it rests on her stomach and laces their fingers together, clutching him tightly. She’s not the only one; he holds her very close.

#

She has class on Fridays, but when her alarm goes off and she wakes up still pressed against Puck, she makes the executive decision to skip it. He grumbles into her shirt until she slaps off the alarm and lets herself sink back into him, already falling towards sleep, comfortable and warm in his arms.

#

Mo doesn’t have class on Fridays, but she’s normally around when Lauren comes in before lunch. She's still gone when Lauren wakes again to Puck’s hands on her bare skin under her shirt, his mouth warm against the nape of her neck, and his dick hard against her ass. She rolls toward him, hitching his shirt up and fumbling with his belt. They work their way out of their jeans, kicking them off the bed, and she hooks one leg over his hips, pulling him closer, and he settles against her, hot and hard right where she wants him.

“Fuck, babe,” he mumbles against her throat, and sweeps his hands higher, dragging his thumbs across her nipples until they’re hard and her entire body aches.

“Condom.” It rasps in her throat, and she’s already reaching overhead and fumbling for her desk drawer, where she automatically put a box when she moved in, even though she wasn’t sure if she wanted to use them or not. She got used to being prepared at home, and it’s even more important here. Puck takes advantage of the moment to hook his fingers into her underwear and tug them down. She lifts her hips as best she can while still arching toward her desk; finally she grabs a condom and focuses on him again, just as he places his palm over her cunt and presses down, an easy, steady pressure that shoots sparks through her.

“Oh yeah, you like that.” His voice rumbles and his breath is hot on her ear; he nips at her earlobe, teasing one finger inside her at the same time. She’s already so damn wet, and she strangles a little on the noise she makes when his thumb circles steady around her clit. “You’re so fucking wet, babe. Is that all for me?”

“Are you gonna talk all day,” she snaps, “or are we going to fuck?” But there’s no real anger in her tone and she presses her mouth to his, no matter that neither of them have brushed their teeth yet.

Puck laughs into the kiss, but when she pulls back to breathe, his mouth is right back at her ear. “I kinda feel like talking.”

“That’s a first,” she mutters.

He hums a laugh and nips at her earlobe again. “You love it too, can’t fool me. I can feel you, remember?” To punctuate his words, he twists two fingers inside her, and all her breath comes out in a high-pitched whine. “You think I don’t know what you like? You think I’ve forgotten all the places that,” he drops his shoulder and turns his hand, curling his fingers forward until he hits the sweet spot. With his thumb still hard on her clit, it feels like she’s going to blow apart from the inside out, “make you quiver?”

“Fuck,” she snarls, turning her face into his shoulder. She can still hear him, though, his voice low and dark.

“I want to watch you come,” he says, and her ass jerks off the bed. He adds a third finger and she rocks her hips against him, fucking herself on his hand. “I want to feel you and hear you, and then I want us to fuck, and then I want to take you out for lunch, and _then_ I want to come back here and eat you until you beg, because it’s your fucking birthday and I want to celebrate you and I am under strict orders from a lot of people to make you feel so good you can’t move for at least a day.” He’s breathing hard and grinding his dick against her and his voice stutters a little by the end of his speech. “Do you want all that too?”

“Yes,” she whines and clutches at him.

“Good. Can I make you come now?”

“Fuck, yes.” She lifts her head, and he knows exactly what she wants. He surges into her, mouth and tongue against hers, and his hand playing her pussy so perfectly, and Lauren can’t breathe, her chest burns, and she comes hard for him, crying out into his kiss.

He keeps grinding against her, and okay, maybe he wants to fuck next, but she slips her hand into his underwear and wraps her fingers around him. The angle’s kind of awkward, but he’s already close and he groans when she circles the head with her thumb, and then he’s coming hot and sticky against her hand.

“Change of plan,” she tells him after she’s worked him through his orgasm and wiped her hand clean on a tissue she grabs from her desk, and he is slumped breathless against her. “Wanted to make you come.”

“Don’t hear me complaining.” Puck tips his head against hers and just breathes for a second. When they’re both a little steadier, he lifts himself up on one arm and smiles down at her. She doesn’t even try to stop the grin that comes in response.

“So, Lauren fucking Zizes,” and she laughs, which is what he wants, but she’s feeling good enough to give it to him, “I drove a really long way to take you out for a birthday meal.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Shame you missed doing it on my actual birthday then, isn’t it?”

He bumps his knee against her. “Not my fault you worked so late. My point is, I want you to pick a good restaurant. Someplace you’ve wanted to try but haven’t yet. Someplace expensive.”

Money’s tight all around, and the corner of her mouth twitches. “I don’t need that,” she says. Having him there is more than enough.

“Got it covered, babe.” He kisses away her next protest. “Been saving up for this trip. Besides, do you really think they let me be the one to come to you without making sure I was prepared?”

She knew it was a group effort, but hearing it like that makes her feel a little light-headed. Lauren isn’t great at relationships, and she’s really not great at long-distance relationships -- once, she’d sworn off them, watching her mom be alone for important events because her dad couldn’t make it home for everything -- but no matter how much she sometimes feels like she’s in way over her head, they’re always right there giving her what she needs even before she knows she needs it.

“Okay,” she relents. “I’ll think about it. Now we need to get cleaned up, or at least dressed, because I’m shocked my roommate isn’t back yet.”

“She won’t be. We’re meeting her at a party tonight.” Puck looks way too smug, and she smacks into him, pinning him quickly.

“What the hell, Puckerman?”

“Did you think I broke in?” He laughs. “Mo let me in and informed me I’m taking you to a party tonight with your friends.”

“She let you in? Just like that?”

“Just like that. No one can resist Puckasaurus.” He puts his hands behind his head and smirks at her.

“God, I thought you were over that stupid shit.” Then she focuses on what is actually important here. “She really just believed you when you showed up?”

“First, babe, _Puckasaurus_ is not stupid shit. Second, my face is plastered all over your fucking wall. She recognized me.” Heat races into Lauren’s cheeks. Shit. She totally forgot about the wall of pictures. “Third, we’ve been planning this with her for weeks.”

“Wait, what? How do you even know her?”

“Facebook sucks, but it can be useful.”

“You planned this with her?”

He nods. “At first we were hoping Tina could come in from St. Louis, but turned out she’s got tests today and Monday. She’ll be here next Friday, though.”

“Yeah, we’re driving home together for fall break.” Lauren’s been looking forward to that a lot. She cares for everyone a lot, even if she also sometimes hates them or at least the things they do, but she and Tina are closer as friends than she is to, say, Berry or Kurt or Artie, so a roadtrip together is always fun.

“And we’ll celebrate your birthday again then, a little late, and Finn’s a little early, and it will be great. But we planned this for you too.”

Lauren kisses him hard before she says something ridiculously sappy and stupid.

#

It gives her a little thrill to walk into the party and see the way people react to Puck. Not because she wants the validation of hooking up with a hot guy, but because, goddamn, her people are some of the freaking hottest people she’s ever met and she loves seeing them be appreciated.

Puck grabs them beers while Lauren looks for Mo. She finds her holding court, sitting on the back of one of the couches. She leaps up when she sees Lauren and bounces over to give her a giant hug, her black braids swinging. Lauren can smell alcohol on her, and a bit of pot, but she doesn’t seem overly drunk or stoned.

“Happy birthday,” she says, hugging Lauren again. “How do you like your surprise?”

And Lauren is not generally demonstrative even with the people she’s dating, but she hugs Mo back as hard as she can -- Mo’s tough, she’s pretty sure she won’t break her -- and mutters, “Thank you.”

Mo laughs as they separate. “He’s hot,” she says, pulling Lauren toward the couch. Their friends make room for her, and when Puck tracks her down, he settles on the floor between her feet, one arm hooked over her legs. Of course then there’s a lot of introductions. Puck eats up the attention, and her friends find little ways to show her their approval.

Talk turns to singing and to karaoke and then Mo has her Droid out, frantically scheduling time at the karaoke club. Lauren gulps her beer and presses her legs against Puck. Eventually, they all end up dancing and Puck and Lauren stumble home, and though she’s starting to get a little sore, even their fumbling drunk sex is awesome.

#

Saturday night at karaoke, Puck gives a performance of “Fat Bottomed Girls” that has the room rocking, and Lauren simultaneously caught up in the sweet pain of nostalgia and grinding him when he comes to dance on her partway through.

Then Lauren grabs Mo and they blow the roof off with Meat Loaf’s “If It Ain’t Broke, Break It,” which is thankfully not nearly as long as most of his songs. Mo pumps the air with one fist, urging on their friends, and Lauren sings like she hasn’t since she left Lima, even though the song is more yelling and a pounding beat than something that really showcases her voice. Not what this is about, though, and she enjoys the hell out of singing with Mo and Puck right there in front of her, filling all the weird empty spaces in this new world of hers.

#

Sunday, they have sleepy morning sex and hit a breakfast buffet before he leaves. She walks him out to his truck in visitor parking and stands with him for awhile, her fingers hooked into his pockets. He rests his chin on her shoulder and listens to her breathe.

“See you next weekend,” he promises. She nods against his neck, because she can’t look at him yet without giving away just how much this good-bye is getting to her. He wraps his arms around her, holding her tight. So he’s probably figured it out already. She sighs, pulls back just enough to kiss him, and tries not to let her sadness get to her. It’s just a week, this time.

“Drive safe,” she orders as he climbs into the truck. He winks, but she’s serious. “I mean it. If I find out you hurt yourself, I will come back and kick your ass.”

“Because threatening to come back if I do something dumb doesn’t encourage me to do it just to get you home.”

Lauren rolls her eyes and leans into the cab to kiss him one more time. She rests one hand on the back of his neck and the other on his thigh. When she pulls back, she lingers long enough he starts to look a little worried and curls his hand along her cheek.

“I miss you,” she lets herself admit, then steps back and slams his door.

Puck starts his truck, letting the engine warm up a little, and she gets out of the way as he backs up out of the space. Instead of driving off, he rolls down his window. “I miss you too, Zizes.” Something in his expression makes her tense. “I fucking love you.”

She presses her fist to her mouth even though she’s too surprised to make a sound.

He nods. “Yeah, I know.” She won’t let herself think about what that means. “I’ll call you when I get home.”

“Call me from the road,” she says quickly, her voice kind of strangled. “If you get tired or bored or,” she rethinks the _if you want to talk_ , “or whatever.”

He nods and pulls away at last. She stands there for a long time even after he’s out of sight, until the cold wind drives her back to her room.

Her bed still smells like them and like sex, but his coat is draped over the back of her chair and that smells just like him. She feels really dumb when she curls up with it, breathing him in, but she just needs a little more time before she’s tough again and taking on the world.

#

Puck calls from somewhere in Indiana. They don’t talk long, but just hearing his voice is the jolt she needs to get her out of this weird emotional thing she’s lost herself in. They don’t talk long, but it’s still good.

“The drive’s fine,” he says when she asks. “Check your closet.”

She clutches the phone to her ear and does so. Inside is a duffle bag she doesn’t remember putting there. “What the hell is this?”

“Damn, sex with Puckasaurus really did blow your mind. How could you forget I said I brought you gifts from everyone?”

“I thought,” _you_ , “the visit was the gift.”

“Mmmhmm.” Like he heard exactly what she didn’t say. “It was part of it. Now go enjoy the rest. I’ll call you when I get home.”

“You’d better.” She presses her thumb against the microphone and sucks in a slow breath. “Later, Puckerman.” It isn’t what she meant to say, but she’s still a little shaken. Some people throw around love easily, but she doesn’t.

“Later, babe.”

#

Not only does Lauren have presents to open -- mostly silly little things that make her smile and mean so much though no one outside their group would understand why -- but she has a ton of Facebook messages and emails and texts and voicemails. She really had been ignoring everything else for the one person who could be there, and she feels a little guilty.

She starts by calling Tina back and works her way through the others. She has to plug her phone in before she gets four people in, but it’s worth it to hear their voices. By the time she’s done, she’s filled with a dizzy, overwhelming excitement about fall break and seeing them again -- not everyone will make it, but most -- and how good it will feel to be surrounded by people only two years ago she thought were mostly idiots.

#

Lauren’s just thinking about dinner when Puck calls again.

“Sorry,” he says first thing. “I was going to call as soon as I got here, but Hannah had a fight and needed a pep talk.”

“Is she okay?” Hannah’s an awesome kid -- not really a kid anymore, she’ll be a teenager before they know it -- and Lauren worries.

“Yeah, she’s tough. She threw that punch you taught her. I think that’s what got her in the most trouble.”

“Oops?”

He laughs. “She’s fine, just pissed.” There’s a moment of silence. “I don’t want her to turn into a bully.” He doesn’t have to say _like me_ for Lauren to get it. “So I took her to dinner so we could talk.”

They talk a few moments more, but he sounds exhausted and Lauren has an early class. When he yawns a second time, she knows it’s time to end the call.

“Go to bed,” she orders.

“Yes ma’am.”

“And don’t you forget it.” She softens her voice and fists one hand in the jacket he left behind for her. It’s hard, but she wants to say it. “I love you too, Puckerman.”

He makes this little sound she can’t quite make out, then, “I know you do. Glad you know it too.”

“Shut it.” She can’t even force bite into those two short words. Damn.

“Night, babe.” He’s laughing a little, she thinks. “Love you.”

“Don’t expect me to start fawning all over you now.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. You know I love it when you’re tough, Zizes.”

“Well, good.” She smooths his jacket across her legs. “Then goodnight.”

“Enjoy that bed of yours.” His voice is low and delicious and shoots right through her. Crap. Now she’s gonna have to get herself off before she can sleep.

She bares her teeth even though he can’t see it. “Already am. Enjoy thinking about all the things I’m doing in it alone tonight.”

He sucks in a sharp breath of air at that. “You’re cruel, woman.”

“And you love it.”

“You know it.”

“Night, Puckerman.”

If she’s grinning kind of sappily when she hangs up, well, no one’s around to see it.


End file.
